Poppy took the cup, downed half the remaining pink punch, and made a face much as Sloan had.
Sloan edged off the side of the pool into the water. She turned her body and held on to the side briefly before she sank. She drifted toward the bottom, loving the silence, the isolation, and the escape. The water was chilly and she pushed off the concrete bottom and crossed the pool under the surface, doing the breaststroke. She’d have to find another ride home. No doubt about it. She couldn’t sit in a car with Poppy for even twenty minutes if Poppy was going to wheedle for information the way she did at the house. For now, she seemed to have dropped the subject, but who knew how long that would last?
None of this was worth all the bad feelings. Sloan decided that as soon as she got home, she’d destroy the tape. Since it had surfaced, all the demons in hell had been freed. Now it was time to force them back into the box. If Austin reneged on the agreement, she’d find a way to deal with it. In the meantime, she couldn’t imagine Troy or Iris owning up to their behavior, but if one of them had an attack of conscience and confessed all, she could still claim she hadn’t seen that part of the tape. Who was going to contradict her?
When she reached the far side of the pool, she pulled herself out of the water and plopped down on the edge. She grabbed a towel off the chaise behind her and mopped her face. She wrung her hair out and tucked the waterlogged strands behind her ears. Stringer and Patti Gibson had gone into the house. Betsy Coe and Roland danced to the Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride.” Poppy bebopped in their direction and joined them to make it a threesome. Good spirits, good energy, good bodies; all of them young and in perfect health.
In her peripheral vision, Sloan caught sight of a wiggling bare foot. Someone said, “Steal my towel? That’s not nice.”
She turned and saw that Bayard was stretched out on the recliner. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“Invisibility’s my middle name.”
Impulsively, she said, “Can I run something by you? This is in confidence because I may be dead wrong . . .”
“Oooh, I like it. Sounds juicy.”
“Well, it may or may not be. On the drive up, Troy mentioned that his being caught cheating had knocked him out of the competition for the Climping Memorial Award.”
“No big surprise.”
“That’s not where I was going. What occurred to me was that I got knocked out of the competition as well. Everyone is convinced I wrote the note and I’m sure the faculty’s been keenly aware that I was being shunned for it. They’re the ones who vote. None of them said anything, but I can tell by the way they look at me, like ‘Too bad, kid, but you deserve it.’ Know what I mean? I’m tarred with the same brush as Troy and Poppy, but for snitching, which is worse. Cheating, you only hurt yourself; snitching hurts everyone involved.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. That’s over and done.”
“I don’t think so. Just listen to me. With Troy and me out of the competition, who do you think benefits?”
Bayard’s smile faded and he blinked. “Austin.”
“Right, and he’s the one who turned the whole class against me.”
“Got it.”
“You think I’m off base?”
“Hey, it makes sense to me. What are you going to do?”
“There’s not much I can do without proof, and I don’t see how that’s possible. I was just curious if you’d see my point.”
“Absolutely.”
“Is there any way you could give me a ride home? Poppy was supposed to take me, but I’d rather go with you. Only problem is, I have to leave early to take care of Butch.”
“Sure. Iris can go with Stringer. He’s got room for her in his van.” He patted the edge of his chaise. “Come sit. You look tense.”
She got up, pulled the towel around her shoulders, and took a seat beside him. “Austin’s not exactly restful company.”
“Don’t let him get to you. He only has as much power as you give him.”
“Ha. Don’t I wish,” she said.
Austin appeared from the kitchen and crossed to the punch bowl. “You want the rest of this? I’m starting a new batch.”
“Fine by me,” Sloan said.
“I’m on hold,” Bayard said.
“Well, that’s a first.”
Sloan said, “Austin? I have to go pretty soon. I left Butch out in the yard.”
“Why don’t you call that neighbor lady, Mrs. Chumley. She has a house key, doesn’t she?”
“Well, yeah. For emergencies.”
“So have her bring Butch in from the backyard. She can make sure he has food and water and you’ll be there in a little while.”
Sloan wasn’t happy with the idea, but she didn’t want to raise any objections. She’d have Bayard take her as soon as they could find a way to slip out.
Austin picked up the bowl and carried it to the kitchen.
Sloan got to her feet, murmuring, “I really ought to help.”
“Right. We don’t want it to look like we’re conspiring out here.”
Sloan made her way into the kitchen in time to see Austin tilt the last of a fresh bottle of vodka into the punch mix, which was now a garish green. Through the doorway, she caught sight of Fritz sitting on the floor in the living room, still wearing his damp bathing suit. He flicked through television channels with the remote, pressing buttons repeatedly, apparently to no effect. “Hey, Austin. You got batteries for this thing?”
“End table drawer. Don’t see any, you’re out of luck.”
Stringer stuck his head around the door from the hall. “Any hope of food? I’m starving to death and Patti just puked up a pint of pink bile.”
“I’m on it,” Austin replied.
He tossed the empty vodka bottle in the wastebasket under the sink and went out the back door. He paused as he passed Michelle, who was lounging facedown on a chaise, her bare back shiny with suntan oil.
He said, “Yo! Grab the burgers while I fire up the grill.”
She looked up, irritated. “I’m a guest. I don’t know my way around this place.”
“Neither does anyone else so figure it out. Jesus, get a clue. You’re not pretty enough to be useless.”
“Thank you so much.” She made no move. Austin stopped in his tracks and stared at her. She rolled her eyes unhappily, but she did push herself up from the chaise, securing the strings of her bikini top as she stood. She crossed to the kitchen, murmuring, “Shithead.”
Austin’s head whipped around. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I am fetching the meat. Will there be anything else, your highness?”
“Clear the big table while you’re at it and have Betsy bring out the condiments. We can serve ourselves inside and then eat out here.”
He crossed to the free-standing Weber barbecue, fueled by a propane tank. He lifted the lid, picked up a wire brush, and scraped the grill. Then he turned on the burners and lowered the lid to allow the interior to heat.
Troy ambled over to his side. “You need help?”